Unredeemed and Incorrupt
by CatastropheOfEquilibrium
Summary: "Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.." The Dark Prince returns to find a Blood Countess in the place of the once sweet and innocent Seras. She continues to paint the world in crimson with death looming over her head, will she be strong enough to face it? Or will she need help from the one who left her?
1. Dark Prince

_"Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.."_

**_Dark Prince_**

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_"__**In a land of fallen heroes**_

**_A prince sits on his throne_**

**_The people of Wallachia know_**

**_Of the evil he has shown_**

**_The Order of the Dragon_**

**_Bestows Dracula to his name_**

**_His people he'll destroy them_**

**_He'll take their lives away"_**

**_The Impaler - Unknown_**

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_ Excommunicated._

That was word alone was enough to strip me of my title. I had won a war and quickly lost it all in the same moment. I had made the same mistake of my father, Vlad II. Too many vows, so many sides to please if you wish to live, treason to the sides in which I had pledged too. I had few to trust and so many taken away from my grasp. The blood of my brothers had run dry. One dead and one that I no longer considered kin. I was believed to be the Messiah to my people and the Antichrist to others. I was loved and feared by many.

Many say words are insignificant, superfluous, and_ worthless_. They are incompetent, illiterate._ Imbeciles_. They do not know the impact such words can have. At any command one can be put to death or brought to life. Things can crumble to the ground or be built up to pierce the sky. War can be waged by the simple uttering of a word or peace could rule. They were such fools to condemned me to wander the Earth for all of eternity. They had doomed the world to witness horror after horror. They had given me the gift to wallow in blood that would supply my undying thirst.

I was denounced for excommunication. The Orthodox Church had believed the whispers and rumors that told of my ways. I would not deny nor admit to the claims for they were always on the tips of the tongues of numerous people. I had begun to believe them myself, not knowing whether the were factual or fraudulent. I fear that if something is repeated enough, it starts to form itself into truth that is not to be questioned. Though it was no question that I was one not to be trifled with. Revenge had fueled my desire of blood lust. Those who were believed to have taken away my father from me were Boyars. Ones who wanted power and wealth. I had gained their trust, such weak minded men amused me. To think I had forgotten the murder of my predecessor, the one that I would surely follow in the footsteps of. It was laughable. Once they had vanquished their hunger I would begin to quell mine.

They had not dubbed me with the title of _Vlad Die Tepes, _or_ Vlad the Impaler _for nothing. I had them dragged with bindings tied to their feet by horses, skewed onto sharp stakes and set up in front of castle walls to show thee of what fate lied ahead to those that dared to defy me. They withered away slowly, light fading from their eyes as they tried to plea for mercy but only streaks of crimson came from their mouths and colored the ground bellow them. It was the first time I had tasted the sweet bitterness of blood. It was not unheard of in these early times of people drinking blood, uncommon and frowned upon but that was the least of my worries. I had feasted while watching them be pecked by the crows, drinking from a goblet filled with the swirling color of maroon.

Much of my family was taken from me, willingly and unwillingly. My eldest brother Mircea II buried alive and his eyes gouged out, my youngest brother Radu III _'The Handsome'_ had decided to betray his blood and stay with the Turks. My first love, Elisabeta, a Transylvanian noblewoman. She went mad due to my actions for she was so innocent and pure at heart. After a battle with the Turkish I had been presumed dead from a head wound. They had thought that my reign of power would end from a simple head wound. I would not die from such petty things, even if it was in battle. They had mistakenly told my love that I was deceased and when I had returned to her she thought I was one of the dead. I suppose that was when she could no longer see the difference from reality and her own mind as madness over took it. I had watched as she threw herself from the one of the towers of Castle Bran and into the Arges River. She was beautiful in her last moment.. A mess of ebony colored hair that was whisked by the winds towards the heavens, green eyes that had once been deranged were now clear and peaceful. Her skin glowed underneath the moon light as her white nightgown billowed forward. That was the last time I had seen her before she was wrapped in the arms of the Agres River. I had the my men search for my lost love to given her a proper burial that she so deserved. Sadly she was never found.

I had continued on with fight for my country and my people, becoming even more coldhearted and ruthless. I slaughtered my enemy left and right, taking no mercy upon the begging cowards. They had no courage in the deaths, dying petty and weak. The day that I was excommunicated I still did not beg for my life. I was taken to my last breathing kin, Radu. I had wanted to end it once and for all with my dear brother. The priest had said he was alone, being smuggled out of Romania. I had foolishly believed him and followed him to my brother. It was like when I was younger when my father would make me and Radu duel. Only this time the tables were turned. I was out numbered and cornered by Radu, my arms bound and useless.

_"Why aren't you afraid? Why aren't you begging for your life like any other man?!" Radu had screamed, my own sword piercing my neck as I stared back at him with unwavering eyes._

I was like no other man and that would remain truth. I was neither God nor Devil. No, I had become something else entirely. My fight was never with God but with the priest who believed me to be the Antichrist. It was he who had my father put to death, thinking I would be killed by the Turks for my father's inability to pay the ransom.

_"And that is why you are doomed, Vlad. You fight all of us, You fight your own blood, your own people, your own church. Because you are the Antichrist and you are doomed."_

It was then that I saw Elisabeta again, her sweet voice calling my name in a hushed whisper. I had wished for death then. To be able to rejoin my love in the whatever world laid beyond the destruction of this one. My own blood had used my own sword to slice through my skin and into my frozen heart, intending to kill me in every way. They did not know the truth of my new nature, come to think of it neither did I. It was only when I was put in a coffin that I realized that death itself wouldn't even take me because of my drastic crimes. My soul forsaken to rest.

It was then on that my terror would continue to reign from the shadows. Once again killing those who stood in my way and sometimes just for the pure glee of it. Only humans could kill such a monster that was me and in 1897 I was finally shown the one who could make the mighty fall. Abraham Van Helsing was truly a remarkable man, one with enough will and courage to hunt down and kill the great Count Dracula. It was then that I again prayed for death. Many think I had taken joy in what I was but that was far from the truth. At times I pleaded for a type of bliss, sometime of rest for my soul. Even a black void of emptiness I welcomed with open arms. I wished to see those from my time yet again, if only once. Another chance to memorize the features of my beautiful Elisabeta. I was disappointed by the Helsing man, who thought it was better for his own welfare to keep me as a servant to his bloodline. To search and destroy those that were considered my own kind but were simply scum beneath my feet to me.

That's what I was told to do in the Great Massacre of London and I had followed my orders specifically. The Millenium, _Last Battalion_, had given me the perfect opportunity to correct my wrongs as much as I was able too. And that is what got me to where I was now. Killing the souls I had stolen from millions, all expect one. And here she stood before me, wearing the same innocence that I was unable to steal.

Her eyes were still the same sapphire blue as they were that night that she had chosen to join the never ending darkness. Her blonde hair that looked as if it was woven from the rays of the sun was still short, the ends flaring out like flames. Her porcelain skin glistened with a sheen layer of sweat from running away from the creatures that had then surrounded her. I had felt a blinding rage and emotion of jealousy when the false priest had fondled her subtle curves and busty bosom, I had brushed it off then, refusing to acknowledge them. I had given her a choice, more or less. Either way she would die and be reborn. In all honesty I had thought that because of the innocence and purity that resigned in the Police Girl that she would end up like Elisabeta. Being driven to madness by my antics or be unable to handle that darkness that would threaten to eliminate her humanity.

I was surprised to say the least when I realized she had seen darkness before many times in her early life and just a few minutes before. Even more so when she had managed to grasp onto the shreds of her humanity. It had angered me at first that she rejected the actions of her true nature, such as drinking blood. She was weak, not worth bothering to be called one of my fledglings or even by her proper name. It was then when I had seen her in her true darkness during the Massacre of London, that I knew she would never be able to ignore her tenebrosity. She had managed to still look pure in her blood drenched uniform and the innocence in her garnet colored orbs.

Standing here now, I knew I would find her when I escaped this crepuscule. I no longer wished to die for once and for all. I now wished to continue my cursed eternity with the Blood Countess known as Seras Victoria...

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_"Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.."_

**This is the first chapter of Unredeemed and Incorrupt titled Dark Prince. I go more into Alucard's past, the original idea of Dracula believed to have been based on Vlad Dracula III, meaning "Son of the Dragon" or "Little Devil". The events of his past life are based loosely on the 2000 movie _Dark Prince; The True Story of Dracula_. Also on documentaries of Vlad's life. I'm a bit of a Vlad-Fanatic.. It fascinates me of how Vlad was a person that was considered a hero of his people, The Messiah, and the Antichrist to others. This also leads into the story of Dracula then transmits into Hellsing. Yes I am Obsessed (:**

_**Alucard: Really ? Obsessed you say?**_

_**Seras: Alucard leave the poor girl alone.**_

_**Alucard: Why Police Girl, it seems you have forgotten who is Master and who is Servant. Do I need to remind you of who is what?**_

_**Seras: No Master...**_

_**Me: Oh just wait Seras.. You are going to have Alucard 'Whipped' at some point. **_

_**Alucard: What exactly is this meaning of 'whipped'?**_

_**Me: Nothing you won't know soon (;**_

_**Seras: Oh yes, when will I be introduced?**_

_**Me: Next chapter is of your POV Miss. Victoria. **_

_**Alucard: Goody...**_

_**Me: Alucard, Hush. **_

_**Alucard: Excuse me?**_

_**Me: Shiiiiitt... **_

**Anyway, yes next chapter will be of Seras, a bit of a more darker Seras than what is portrayed in the Anime. Yes it is Rated M because there will be mature scenes either from gore or other 'things'. I am a 'gorey' person, I believe that something such as brutal as Hellsing should be described in such a way. Don't get nightmares my children. **

_Sweet Dreams..._**  
**


	2. Blood Countess

_"Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.."_

**_The Blood Countess_**

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**_"Crimson droplets on the flagstone,  
Splattering the floor like blooming roses.  
The Countess sits by herself, alone,  
Watching the snow fall as she poses._**

_**Ivory flesh, as pale a milk,**_  
_**As cold as steel, as soft as silk.**_  
_**Eyes that burn, boldly flaring,**_  
_**Hot like coals, unwavering and staring.**_

_**Beauteous wonder masks cruel intentions,**_  
_**Twisting truths like a satin thread.**_  
_**For the Lady indeed makes such inventions,**_  
_**To hide her motive until the witless tread…**_

_**Crimson droplets on the flagstone,**_  
_**Splattering the floor like blooming roses.**_  
_**The Countess sits by herself, alone,**_  
_**Watching her prey come as she poses.**_

_**Innocence scoured, youth forever lost,**_  
_**Regained in but one, whatever the cost.**_  
_**More and more fresh lives she demands,**_  
_**Her hunger ceases not; such as her will commands.**_

_**Faces white with mounted fears,**_  
_**They see their fates in chambers cold.**_  
_**Chilled and naked, they have only tears,**_  
_**Now, to its death, purity has been sold…**_

_**Crimson droplets on the flagstone,**_  
_**Splattering the floor like blooming roses.**_  
_**The Countess sits by herself, alone,**_  
_**Watching the blood flow as she poses.**_

_**Angels weeps, but souls ascend,**_  
_**Seraphs wail, yet spirits shall mend.**_  
_**The madness of one brings sorrow to all,**_  
_**Where she thought she would win, she would just as soon fall.**_

_**Her ghosts long set in, her foul ways revealed,**_  
_**The creature inside her sits locked in a cage.**_  
_**Her sanity broken, her mind far from healed,**_  
_**The monsters inside her scream wild with rage…**_

_**Crimson droplets on the flagstone,**_  
_**Splattering the floor like blooming roses.**_  
_**The Countess sits by herself, alone,**_  
_**Watching her demons as she poses…"**_

_**The Blood Countess - Unknown**_

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Blood drips from slender pale fingers, forming a puddle of crimson at her feet. She sits upon his throne, her legs crossed and thrown in careless eloquence over the side. Once short blonde hair now cascades in waves down to her waist. Her lips painted red with blood and her eyes the color of garnet that would draw any creature to her unearthly beauty. Her cheek bones high and prominent, her features sharp and exquisite. Her skin the color of porcelain and soft as silk. Her smile is alluring but terrifying as you catch the protruding incisors. She is everything you crave and fear wrapped into one. Her innocence is just a mask, hiding the demons that consume her thoughts. Her thirst for blood in unyielding, demanding to be fulfilled.

She could hear their quiet footsteps from above, the clang of metal and movement of clothing as the shifted nervously. They stunk of fear,_ and she loved it_. Her smile was filled with sadistic glee, much like the grin of her sire. Sir Integra had told her they would come for her, would hunt her down and try to burn her at the stake. She was on her death bed at that moment, looking at a completely different Seras then the one that had resisted the call of blood and the demonic whispers that pulled at her skin. This Seras bathed in blood and pursued her demons with delight and exhilaration. Seras had welcomed the obscurity of the night with open arms after the massacre and the loss of her Master. The emptiness was replaced with rage and blood lust, other useless emotions such as love and sadness were now lost to her.

Her wicked laugh bounced off the stone walls, sounding like the twinkling of church bells on a funeral. In graceful movements she untwined her long legs, lowering them to the floor as she stood, her blonde hair swishing after her. Her feet made no sound as she padded towards the door in the dark lit room, the only sign that her bare feet were touching the blood soaked floor was the ripples in the liquid as she moved. A white dress with a sweet-heart neckline that was cut slightly down the middle hugged her breast and tightened around her small waist as the ruffled satin skirt flared out, cut short in the front, just above her knees, but stayed longer in the back. The back of the skirt was drenched in red as it was dragged across the bloody flagstone floor.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door with tentativeness, stepping out into the cold damp hallway of the lowest level of the Helsing Mansion. There was nothing binding her to the organization any more, and because of that she was considered a threat to the public, as she should be. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Helsing had produced no heir, meaning the great bloodline of Helsing died with her. The Convention of 12, or _The Round Table_, now had control of the Helsing Organization. Those petty men were afraid of what they could not control and what represented a threat to their power. Seras shook with mirth as she heard the heavy footsteps of Helsing Soldiers approach. If this was their way of_ 'burning her at the stake'_ it was a pathetic attempt. She had worked alongside these men to her much dislike; they were nothing like the soldiers or The Wild Geese that she had long ago served beside. The new soldiers were cowards, hiding behind large guns, never once thinking that they would have to face close combat fighting. They were weak and arrogant, and that would be their down fall.

She continued her way towards the advancing soldiers with dignified strides, a smirk forming on her blood stained lips. She could see the first blessed silver bullet before she heard it. She didn't try to dodge it as it struck the middle of her torso, or the other bullets that soon followed. Her body jerked occasionally, blood spilling from her wounds, but she still roamed forward as her wounds healed almost instantaneously. The 'ting' of bullets hitting the floor as they fell from her body, one of the many sounds in the corridor. Blood splattered the walls, all of it hers, but she did not feel one ounce of worry. There would be far more blood, and none of it would be hers. She lifted her right arm, her dainty hand twisting so that it was palm up and her fingers splayed outwards. Only one soldier caught the movement, his firing halting as his boyish young face filled with terror. Her smirk widened as her eyes sparked with mischief and curled her fingers, her hand forming a fist. Just as quickly, many of the soldiers' chests imploded, including the young boy, blood splattering their comrades and the frigid stone walls.

Her eyes glowed like the embers of a kindled flame. She took joy in the screams that tore out of the soldiers' throats, the fear they displayed fueled her hunger. The shots that were being fired had lessened but many were still sounding in the passage way. She searched the crowd of uniforms, picking out which one would bring the most glee. She spotted an older soldier who was a brick-wall of a man, his lips meshed together to form a straight line that tugged at the lines on his face. She laughed gleefully as she dissipated into shadows that flickered like flames before they too disappeared. She appeared in front of the man who only had a second to analyze the situation before the slender limb that was her arm shot through his chest, a gurgling sound coming from the back of his throat before blood spilled from his parted lips as his now dull brown eyes rolled towards his skull. She could hear the collective gasps, screams, curses and even the sound of bodies dropping as they fainted, from the large group as they caught sight of the man's heart grasped tightly in her grip. She could feel the warm streams of blood curl and slither down her arm in a pleasurable feeling. She yanked her arm out of the man's rib cage, watching as his lifeless body crumpled in a heap on the ground.

The smirk waned as she continued to feel blessed silver lodged itself into her body. While the bullets did not affect her health wise, it was more of an annoying tingling that laced her nerves. She let her lids slip over her eyes, the ruby colored irises no longer visible. Shadows stretched like wings from her delicate back, diminishing where the bullets cut through it before quickly reforming in a swirl of black colored mist. The tendrils expanded, weaving their way towards the corridor's walls and along the crevasses between the stones and twisting their way along the ground. The soldiers shuffled their feet out of the way of thick shadows as they jutted down the passage. She laughed cruelly as the men continued to shot at the shadow and her. After serving Helsing for over thirty years, this was her retirement party. More than she could of ever hoped if she did say so herself.

Seras's eyes flashed open, flashing a dark burgundy before the view was obscured by splashes of scarlet. Chocked sounds and screams that were cut short filled the air like an orchestra. Limbs were torn from their rightful places, heads decapitated and flesh shredded. Bodies fell as souls were lifted, Heaven wept while Hell rejoiced. The tendrils retreated, seeming to seep back into Seras's alabaster skin. She trailed a nimble hand over her cheek, wiping away blood. She grinned like the cat that had got the cream, and in reality's sick and twisted ways, she had. She looked at the blood on her hand, rubbing her fingers together before she licked her hand clean of the crimson liquid with an unusually long tongue.

She dropped her hand back to her side, beginning to walk down the blood soaked hallway that would forever more smell of death. The blood looked as if it had a life of its own as it followed the goddess-like figure, disappearing in streams into her body. The dress returned to its pristine white color, the sound of the train dragging across stones was the only sound in the now lifeless hallways and rooms of the formerly grand Helsing Manor.

She mad her way through the hallways that were destroyed in servant's and other resident's haste to evacuate the residence. She looked at the beautiful paintings, including those of the Helsing blood line. She stopped at Sir Integra's painting, running her fingers over the rough martial that it was painted over. Sir Integra and Seras had a mutual respect for each other, never once crossing over the line of Master and Slaver per say. There were the occasional smiles, mostly on Integra's part and the relentless teasing that was mostly Sears doing. She left the painting hesitantly before moving down the hall towards the front doors where the last painting resided. _"Wilander Earl of Worcester at the Battle of Mammon Plain" by Kaster_ it read.

She smiled at the memory, one that was not filled with sadistic glee but a true one. She remembered that day all to well. Integra had gone to meet Maxwell at the Imperial War Museum. She chuckled when remembered Alucard and his elation of being able to face the Vatican's own trump card, Alexander Anderson, again. Of course destroying the museum in London was not the best idea, so she intervened. Now she wished she never had. Maybe that small action would have changed the out come of the war, would have changed everything.

She shook her head, growling at herself. She didn't have time to reminisce on the past, the only thing that could strike emotion into her still heart. She glanced once again down the hallway, the last look she would get at the manor. She found that she would not miss the place itself, but the people that used to reside in it. She turned on her heel, fazing through the large grand doors. She walked across the estate in willowy traipse, her figure flickering before disappearing all together and into the night.

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_"Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.."_

**Yes well this the second chapter. It's more of a third person view of Seras's actions. Okay so I have a little fascination with blood thirsty people from history. First Vlad then I now found out about Erzsebet (Elizabeth) Bathory. Something has got to be wrong with me but, hey I'm fine with that. You can probably guess of how Erzsebet is going to come into this story. Also, sorry about the chapters I'm a little rusty. Just tell me if I missed something and I'll fix it right away. I always try to proof read but I miss things. I'm human... Sadly. Anyway please review-**

_**Alucard: It's more of a demand than a request. **_

_**Me: ... I am not denying nor agreeing to that statement.**_

**If you have any ideas for the next chapter or for the whole story in advance just comment. I'm always up for suggestions because I do get writers block a lot. Any help would be grateful. **

_Sweet Dreams..._


	3. Agony

_"Denounced... My immortal soul, unredeemed... Doomed to remain incorrupt and entire, neither in Heaven nor in Hell.."_

_**Agony**_

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**"Bitter, no tenderness-  
****sweet like the rose concealed by the withered tree.  
****Roots deep, inflicting vexation that'll haunt the blooming process.**

**Compassion, a figment dear whose embrace is now of dark dreams,  
Comforts me with a sigh, and leads me unto perishment.  
Through my eyes I can see a ripening sorrow,  
Harrowing near, oh so near...  
Clouds judgement of a melodious tomorrow,  
Only thorns, sheer frost, and dust.**

**It was only my bereavement,**  
**A fixation on loss, that all encompassing misery.**  
**Into the hands of despair, I am awakening:**  
**Warmth of light thoughts so distant.**

**Blemish the flower that blossoms in my heart,**  
**As Spring turns to Autumn in shame.**  
**Coldness touches the skin with a careless caress,**  
**As we reach for the season of decay.**

**Clawing profundity and screaming in shallow vein, accursed!**  
**I vow to relinquish the shadow of your immoral subsistence.**

**Twisted creation of a flinching wretch, I found serenity.**  
**Abide by the wrath of my forthcoming, arisen to be rectified.**  
**I alienate those who force me to reminisce, the seed has been planted.**  
**The vines that strangle and choke me to death I'll cut out from the core.**

**Winter has set its sights on an old and haunting heirloom.**  
**A cruel and misleading tendril germinates from the foundations of its exposure.**

**Ivy, poisonous to the touch..."**

_**In Anguish and Agony - Unknown**_

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Some days she felt nothing, only a void of emotions, as if every single string that held her together was filled with such a tenebrosity that it burned. Other times she felt everything, _every god damned thing_. The bubbling rage that made her body shake, the bitter agony that made her weep the very substance that she so craved, and the loneliness that made her want to scream until her throat was raw to see if anyone would hear the cries of a mad woman. Her sanity was slipping through her fingers like sand, just like her humanity. She wanted to laugh at her ignorance, to think that she could keep her humanity when she was certainly no longer human, and mourn at the lost of it. She was not that way with her sanity, which mildly astounded her. She guessed she wouldn't miss it because she wouldn't have face the ever growing harsh reality for the rest of time if she didn't know what was reality and what wasn't.

She wasn't positive if she was seeing reality as of now or something her mind had came up with to draw out the sick reality with something sicker. There was blood coating her palms and nimble fingers, from where she hadn't have the slightest idea. That was a lie, that she knew, she knew all to well. The blood came from the mangled yet beautiful corpse in front of her. There was blood splattered against the young woman's slightly darker skin, her dull green eyes glassy and wide with the fear that she died feeling. Sera's reflection was clear in the woman's eyes, a demented smile showing pearly white teeth with sharp incisors that contrasted the white with a cerise color. Despite the deranged smile her eyes were wide and frantic, confusion of how she got here clouding her scarlet orbs. Her emotions were torn in two by the display before her. She was filled with such satisfaction and glee, she could still taste the sweet yet bitter metallic taste of blood on her tongue. Another part of her was horrified and stricken with guilt that made her rib cage feel as if it was crushing everything is was meant to protect, ironic in her mind really. These emotions continued to clashing, tearing and unraveling the already frayed seams of her sanity.

She backed away slowly, almost in fear as if the body ahead of her was going to some how reanimate it's life. No, the woman wouldn't turn into a ghoul, Sera's would never let herself sink so low to the level of the ones she used to kill. Ghoul's had to have a small amount left in their system to be plagued with the disease of the dead. The woman had no blood left in her veins, the beautiful liquid was currently splattered across the pavement and brick walls that enclosed the forgotten alley, the rest of it was either coloring Sera's alabaster skin or was consumed savagely. This had been the seen before her many times through the month since the bonds of Helsing had fallen. More than twenty young women were killed by her hands and she was anything but discreet. The media headlines were plastered with articles of her 'work' and titles of _'The Return of Erzsebet Bathory'_. They had graciously dubbed her after the mad woman Erzsebet Bathory who had lived in 16th century that had supposedly killed more than 600 of her female virgin servant girls and bathed in their blood, but of course none of this was fact and was just a myth. After she had left little evidence that she was in fact female, the small feminine bloody foot prints that trailed away from the crime scene was what she though a subtle hint. The police were currently trying to look for evidence, thinking she would slip up again like she did with the foot prints, but they didn't know they were intended. She was not an idiotic girl, she had dealt with enough crimes, when she was a police officer and in Helsing, to know what things were commonly looked over and what to do and not to do. The police were losing their heads over it and was amusing to say the least. It seemed the government was getting involved due to the rising numbers of her crimes, and to her utter most delight, they had employed _Helsing_ which was now run by idiotic men who were nothing like the harsh, icy and collected Integra.

She cackled, her body shaking with mirth. If the_ prestigious_ Helsing Organization was going to send more troops of merely weak humans, they were simply laying out a path for their own destruction. _'If Master could see Helsing now he would su-'_ She stopped the thought immediately, the sadistic smile dropping from her face and her body going still. _'No! NO!'_ She chanted in her head frantically _'No... Please.. Please! Not again!' _She grasped her her head, her slick black claws piercing her skull as her almost-white blonde hair was scrunched in her palms. Her body shook violently as she sunk to her knees, into the puddle of blood below her feet. She didn't want to see them again, she didn't want to remember! She screamed, the sound fluttering down the dark empty streets and onto deaf ears. She bowed her head so that her forehead was touching the top of her knees as blood dripped from her ruby eyes, a very faint white line now visible in her irises from when Zorin had taken her scythe to them. "Please... Just let me forget... Let me forget.." She whispered to the empty air as images danced behind her now closed eyes, gruesomely accompanied by sounds.

_She was revolted by the icy cold hands that skimmed her body, groping and needing her delicate body. The smell of rotting corpses affiliated her nostrils associated with the typical moans, groans, and unintelligent muttering. She couldn't bare to think that her co-workers of her police unit were among the dead that surrounded her. She always thought she would die in combat, getting shot was the most plausible. But this, surrounded by the dead and being molested by a priest of all people, would have never crossed her mind. _

_Tears were stinging her eyes as she sobbed, unable to see a way to escape this unusual death. She struggled continuously, unwilling to let this maniac continue to toy with her. That said maniac seemed to be to obsessed with touching her that he failed to see the red figure stalking towards them, a deranged grin standing out promptly. 'Great, just what I need. Another fucking maniac to accompany this perverted one. What. Joy.' She hissed sarcastically, her lips pulling back to release a snarl that sounded like that of a kitten. The deep chuckled that followed her thought and pathetic excuse of a snarl seemed to snap the priest behind her out of his sexually educed haze while it frightened her to a extent to where she no longer tried to struggle. The priest lifted his head from it's place from her neck where he was nuzzling, his eyes narrowing at the man that now stopped a mere 20 feet away._

_"Who the fuck are you?"_

_She gritted her teeth, her small hands unconsciously curling into fists. Well at least it didn't seem they knew each other, but she didn't have time for these two to exchange pleasantries. She had to think of a plan to get out of this situation and fast or else she'd end up like Eddy and Simon.. Poor Eddy and Simon. Eddy was like the brother she never had and Simon acted as a second father to her. It seemed she was doomed to always have her family ripped away from her in twisted cruelty. _

_"An assassin." The man replied nonchalantly, the grin still plastered on his face as the moon light reflected of his orange tinted glasses. His voice was smooth and baritone, one that you could listen to him recite a dictionary and never get blasé. The thing that bothered her the most was that he stated his 'occupation' like it was the most common and simplest thing in the world._

_The priest spoke again, his voice nothing like the man's before them. "An assassin?" His voice slightly hysterical and mocking, "You? Are you serious?" He asked ridiculously. Despite that the priest was psychotic and her captor, she had to agree with him. The man seemed dangerous, yes, but not at all like an assassin. She groaned thoughtlessly thinking 'I am official stuck with two psychotic men, one in which was surely going to kill me and another that claimed he is an assassin. Great.' The priest lifted his hand, snapping his fingers at the ghouls and uttered a command of 'Kill Him' and soon enough there was the sound of gun shots and bullet casings hitting the frozen Earth. The man just stood there, the grin permanently on his face, as his body was assaulted with bullets. How every ghoul had a gun and was able to fire it, she had no idea._

_She gasped as his left arm dropped to the ground, completely severed from his body before a cloud of dust and dirt blocked the view and only then did the firing stop. She mindlessly let the priest pull her with him to the front of the group, laughing deliriously. His voice sounded into the empty air, full of glee, "Spent already, assassin?" He called to the seemingly dead man who laid bloodied and mangled before him, his head tilted back to shield his eyes and smile from view. _

_Seras trembled as the man's chest moved in a pattern that matched his vivaciously chortle. The man's ebony hair twisted and moved like tendrils of shadows. His body also began to emit the swirling tendrils until it was blocked out of view by a churning mass of shadows with red flecks that looked like embers from a dying fire. The mass dissipated after a minute, leaving the supposedly dead man standing with the berserk smirk back in place. She watched as he reached into his red colored duster, pulling out a minute later with a Arm 454 Casull Automatic in a white gloved hand. The sounds of bullets rained again, but not from the ghouls but from the man alone. He moved in graceful movements, dare she say fluently, moving in elegant actions like a dance of death. His eyes, now unmasked, showed red glowing orbs that were focused and intent on their targets. The ghouls feel one by one and soon the group was rotting and decomposing on the ground before they crumbled after a minute. She stumbled slightly, forcing her body to move as the priest stood there dumbstruck, the only sound was that of the empty magazine of the Casull hitting the frozen Earth with a 'clang'._

_"They're being killed like... Those bullets are..." The priest mumbled, staring at the man with wide eyes and mouth agape._

_"13mm explosive steel rounds alloyed with silver melted from a Lanchester cross," The man finished for him, slamming another magazine in to the slot. "There's no freak around who can eat these and come back for seconds." The edges of the man's red duster fluttered forward with the occasional gust of wind, his fedora tilted to shadow his eyes but they did nothing to hide the glow of the murderous gaze._

_"Wh-Why, Why do you.." The priest stuttered, "Why is a fellow vampire in league with humans?" The priest questioned, his voice edged with anger and disbelief. Meanwhile Sears felt her heart stop for a matter of seconds. She believed the supernatural was a plausible idea, but that was all it was! Just an idea, nothing more! She was too stunned to see the priest move so that he was once again shielded by her, earning a gasp and shriek of surprise from the small woman. She struggled once again as he held her tightly to his chest, feeling the blood soaked shirt press into hers for a uncomfortable feeling against her back._

_"Don't move, assassin." The priest yelled, the frenzied smile back on his face, thinking the man wouldn't harm a innocent girl. In response the man's smirk just widened, seeming almost impossible. "This is the only survivor- don't you want her to live?" He threatened, tightening his grip on the fragile female. "Why all the fuss, just help me get out of here! Or even pretend I got away!" Desperation twinged his plea._

_The man's usually elated and bright eyes darkened and narrowed at the scum-of-a-priest before training them on Seras which made her freeze. "Hey girl, are you a virgin?" He asked slyly, his voice smooth and playful despite the situation. _

_Seras's eyes expanded, a blush coloring the pale skin on her cheeks. The priest growled, the vibration rattling her rib cage, "What the hell are you on about?!" The priest hissed, digging his hands into her waist and shoulder which his arms were wrapped around._

_"I asked if you're a virgin." The man said in a commanding tone, speaking over the priest as his focus was solely on the frightened woman. She could faintly hear the priest whisper something along the lines of 'Bastard' above the roar of blood rushing in her ears. The man raised the silver Casull, rage now occupied the emotion on his sharp features. "Answer me!" He commanded Seras in a harsh tone, training the Casuall on her chest._

_Seras closed her frantic blue eyes, finally finding her vioce. "Yes! I am!" She wailed, cringing. She heard the bullet fly out of the gun with a bang that sounded like thunder before everything went mute. She felt excruciating pain radiate through her delicate frame as scarlet blood spluttered from her mouth and onto the ground. She fell forward as the priest let his hands slip from her body, blood trailing from her lips that were already starting to turn blue. She couldn't hear anything else as her body 'thumped' against the hard landscape. Blood bloomed like a rose from the bullet wound in her chest, changing her cotton police shirt from blue to red. 'Looks like I will die from a bullet wound..' She thought fleetingly. She sputtered as her body shook violently, all of the liquid in her veins dispersing rapidly. She looked to the night sky with dulling crystal blue eyes as the world faded in and out of focus before she could make out a dark figure looming over her, his red eyes staring directly into hers and demanding attention._

_She could see his lips move but no sound came to her ears, the only sound she could hear was the slowing 'thump... thump... thu-" of her barely beating heart. She chose not to focus on his moving lips, but instead on his appearance. He was a handsome man, one that you could not go without looking at him a second time. His face was the color of marble with chiseled features such as high cheek bones and a straight nose. Wisps of raven colored silky hair laid against his forehead and into his ruby colored eyes. In this moment he looked like the an angel and demon conveyed into one. She weakly reached up a hand, desiring for some unknown reason to just feel the touch of skin against he gloves, one last contact with something human, or as human as she could get. Shaken memories of her shattered childhood played in front of her, the color of blood standing out vibrantly and a child's voice calling out "Dad.. Mum!" before bright lights flashed, the memory disappearing quickly. She reached forward, higher, for something that she no longer knew of before she was to weak to lift her arm, dropping like dead weight, but before her arm could hit the ground a pristine white gloved hand caught hers, holding it with a surprisingly great amount of gentleness. The man now crouched beside her, looking at the girl laying in her own blood, his trade-mark grin never faltering. She faintly remembered a question being asked as her hearing came and went. She nodded her head yes feebly before she felt searing white hot pain flood her body before the caliginosity of death took control..._

Seras dragged her shaking hands away from her head, letting them drop onto her thighs. She hated these memories, she hated that they only appeared at the mere mention of _him_. They use to plaque her mind randomly and forced her body to shut down, but now it was simply triggered by _him_. After the war, after he disappeared, she felt empty. Like the string holding together her sanity had been snapped once he vanished. She hated it.. She hated him.. but that was a lie too. She didn't hate him but she didn't know what she felt for him. Love was inconceivable for her, an emotion that was saved for the pure not the tainted. She only knew of hate and agony.

She stood shakily on her feet, leaning against the brick wall that bit into her soft skin. She glanced down at the mangled body once again with the emotion wiped out of her once agonized features to a impassive and stoic look before she melted away into the shadows, leaving the corpse to be found by an unlucky passerby. She just wanted to feel nothing, feel empty like she did the first few days after the battle before it melted into anger and agony. She wanted to feel nothing...

* * *

_"The Bird of Hermes Is My Name, Eating My Wings To Make Me Tame..."_

**So.. I own nothing. Sadly. Longest chapter I have ever written. AND I FINALLY GOT THIS DONE! You should feel proud of me. I hope you guys liked it... Yes the memory is from _Hellsing Episode_ 1. I re-watched it to make sure I got everything right, I try to do my research. I really hope you guys like it. The next chapter might be Alucard.. Not sure how to start it off and ideas are welcomed for that. I'll be getting to the point in the next chapter probably or I might just explain it here... Eh, just tell me what you guys should think I should do.**

_Sweet Dreams_


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